


Don't You Love Me, Anymore?

by AFey



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hopeful Ending, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-17 18:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12371145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFey/pseuds/AFey
Summary: "A selfish act no doubt, but perhaps it's one worthy of absolution."Chapter 1 - Andy's POVChapter 2 - Miranda's  POV





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Joe Cocker song. I blame it completely for this fic.

"Don't you love me, anymore?”

It's a question I ask with trepidation. The need to know battles with the fear of discovering the truth.

“Of course I do.”

Which is complete bullshit. How can she make such claims after betraying me?  
  
“Do you love her?”

An exasperated glare is the initial response.

“We've been through this before. She meant nothing to me.”

And that's the crux of the issue. Miranda destroying five years of trust and two years of marriage on an insignificant fling.

“Well, it sure as hell means something to me.”

Her gaze softens and it looks like she wants to comfort me. She's smart enough not to try.

“I know it doesn't change anything, but I'm sorry Andrea.”

“I know you are. I'm just not sure it's enough.”

  
*********

The stench of infidelity pollutes my memories of our relationship. Now I seem to second-guess everything about our time together. ‘Did she ever really love me?’ ‘Could I have done more to make her happy?’ And then the most traitorous thought of all. ‘Was I not enough for her?’ It's a tiring and pointless exercise.

They say Miranda Priestly is unpredictable. They're right. I never entertained the idea that she would cheat on me. And even if I had, I would have figured she'd stray with someone younger than me. But, no. Instead, she slept with a beautiful and accomplished woman in her forties. Everything I hope to be, but as yet, am not.

We enter couples therapy at Miranda's insistence. I don't know what she hopes to achieve. As far as I’m aware, therapists deal in honesty and self-discovery not amnesia. At this point I think only the latter would enable me to stay in this marriage.

“I don't want a divorce, Andrea.”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you fell into someone else’s vagina.”

It seems brutal honesty is my take away from therapy.

*********

Miranda is, as always, single-minded in pursuit of what she wants. And what she wants, it seems, is me. I'm just not sure I still want her. Would forgiving her be the act of a fool or a sign of immense strength and bravery? Only time will tell.

We go back to our therapist and on her advice we take a trip. A long weekend in order to ‘re-connect’. With no children or work as a distraction, the chasm between us is even more obvious.

We fight : damaging scar tissue and inflicting new wounds. We talk. Miranda explains without offering excuses; I listen and try to withold judgement. We fuck : the ghost of the other woman making it an awkward threesome.

We talk some more. This time I let go of my anger and let her see my pain and vulnerability. We make love. It's familiar and haunting, evoking the hazy feeling of home.  
  
Back in New York, we take tentative steps towards reconciliation. I still don't know if I can ever really trust her but I’m too stubborn not to try. I can't condone what she did, but I've come to understand it. After years of being the one everyone waited for, she's not used to being the one left behind. My frequent work away from home left her adrift and unsure of where she stood. And for one night she wanted to be back on secure footing. A selfish act no doubt, but perhaps it's one worthy of absolution.

*********


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had intended for this story to be only one chapter, but without Miranda's point of view it seemed incomplete.
> 
> Thanks for reading and leaving kudos and comments. I know these types of stories aren't fun to read! (They aren't much fun to write either...)
> 
> Apologies to UK Calling for accidentally deleting your comment! My phone is playing up and I hit spam by mistake!

The press have always delighted in comparing me to the Devil. And after what I've done, there's surely a special place in hell reserved for me. I can't decide which is the bigger sin. Engaging in a meaningless one-night stand or the confession I made to appease my guilt. If I'd been willing to carry the burden alone, Andrea would still be whole. Instead, I've broken her. I've broken us.

She bombards me with questions, insisting on total honesty when all I want to do is spare her any further harm.  Against my better judgement I comply, even though I realise lies would be far kinder.

“Because I was lonely and you weren't here.”

“I’m selfish, Andrea. I thought it would make me feel better.”

"Yes, the sex was good. But that's all it was.”

I answer all her questions, but it's the ones she doesn't ask that makes me understand her fears. I prepare my answers in the hope that when she's ready to hear them, it will be enough.

“You make me happy. Our life together makes me happy.”

“You're perfect. Never change for anyone.”

*********

Andrea is angry with me and yet she still strives for forgiveness. Her strength of character astounds me.  If our positions were reversed, I'm not sure I could entertain the idea of absolution.

Every day I try to prove that she means everything to me.  I spend more time at home and when she's away from New York, I make sure she can easily reach me.  Besides my girls, this woman is the light of my life and I cannot face the thought of losing her.

With therapy and open communication we start to rebuild our relationship. It's a slow process but for once I have infinite patience.  Still, I wonder if she'll ever really trust me again or if there will always be some nagging doubt.   

As the cause of this destruction, I struggle to find a way to fix us. Throughout my career I've always known how to solve any problem that dares to cross my path. In my personal life, the solutions have never been as easy to find.

“How can I make amends?”

That's the question neither of us knows how to answer.

*********

To the outside world we still look like the perfect couple. Only someone with an impeccable eye for detail would ever notice something was amiss.

“How's Six?”

I take a sip of wine while composing my response. It's not my place to share her pain with Nigel. If she wants him to know, she’ll tell him. We may have been close colleagues for years, but he's her best friend now.

“Andrea is fine.” A necessary lie, but it makes me uneasy. “Very busy of course.” At least this part is true.

“She looked a little withdrawn at last week's Gala. Not the usual Belle of the Ball.”

“Well, we both know her work takes a toll sometimes.”

“That's true. Still-”

“Speaking of work, we really need to discuss the Sandra Bullock cover.”

Once again my reputation as a slave driver comes in handy.

*********

Over time, I notice incremental changes.  Her eyes lose their haunted look and once more she is quick to smile.  The day she laughs at my usual litany of complaints, I feel the faint stirring of hope.  Perhaps we'll make it through this together. The night she reaches for me in bed I fear my heart might actually explode from the unexpected joy.  

A week later, I return home to a quiet house and make my way to our study.  I find her on the couch, sipping a glass of wine.

"How was your day, Miranda?"

I let out a sigh and sit down beside her.  "Much better now I'm here with you."

She smiles slightly and places her glass on the side table. 

"I think we need to talk."

My stomach clenches at her words. This is it. My greatest fear has come to pass. She's leaving me.  

"I've been putting it off for awhile now. But there's something I have to tell you."

'Oh, God. It's even worse than I thought.  She's found someone else.'

She reaches out, placing a hand on my cheek.  The anxiety is so intense, I can't meet her eyes.  

"I hate to tell you this sweetheart, but it needs to be said.  Scarlet is not your colour."

I look in her eyes and there is no doubt, no pain, no anger.  Only compassion. It is my undoing.

She takes me in her arms and I weep.

********* 


End file.
